WORD PICTURE #4

What is life for if you can’t enjoy yourself? Why has religion crushed all that is good in this life? Why do you allow yourself to be led by all the shoulds and ought-not-to’s they rammed down our throats when we didn’t know any better.

Todos dejamos trozos de nuestras almas  con otros, en la esperanza que no nos lleguen hacer el mal. We all leave bits of our souls with others in the hopes that they won’t harm us. That’s a life truly lived; when you aren’t afraid of getting hurt. When you know that the wounds left by others are now a warrior’s scars.

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2012

 

Julia’s Hands

Julia’s hands tell a story, 

 all cut up and bruised-

paint a sad picture of painful loss-

no pain, no gain, no glory.

Julia a young teen,

 been working those hands

since her mama died at eighteen.

 She took over a grown up’s work load

when tragedy hit their lowly abode.

Julia sent away to labor in far away lands.

Her hands never wore any rings.

Not once did she ever paint her nails,

 no time  for self adornment;

always outside carrying heavily filled pails.

She  looks at girls her age, in sheer wonderment;

pretty dresses, perfumed locks, perfectly painted nails.

Does Julia cry,”Why me? Why me?” ever?

No, this young girl knows that alas,

her lot in life is for now, certainly not forever.

 

Eva Santiago Copyright 2011